Succession
by sinemoras09
Summary: The seventy-eighth reincarnation of Ebisu lived for forty years. (Ebisu-centric. Gen. Spoilers for chapter 39)


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The seventy-eighth reincarnation of Ebisu lived only forty years; only half of a human life, a mere blip in the line of succession compared to his predecessors. His shinki mourned. Quietly they lined the banks of the river that snaked behind Ebisu's compound and threw chrysanthemum petals onto the water. The sun was setting, and the dark waters were fractured by orange light.

Unlike the first seventy-seven times of Ebisu's passing, Iwami could not attend his master's funeral. "Are you sure?" Bishamon said. She knelt beside the old shinki's chair, looking at him, kindly. "I would gladly give you a name and take you as one of my own. The heavens wouldn't know it was you if you took the guise of one of my divine instruments."

"I thank you, lady Bishamon," Iwami said. His milky eyes turned upwards, meeting hers. "I do not wish to trouble you. Already the heavens are keeping a close watch. I do not wish to drag you into this further."

xXx

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Under his employ, Ebisu had no less than one-hundred and fifty-six shinki, a third of whom were strays. "Not every nora is bad," Ebisu had said, and he understood that some were victims of circumstance; most were noras because their previous masters had died, nameless gods without followers, who winked out in a silent oblivion: the moment he heard about Yukine, he set about gathering a sufficient amount of funds in order to purchase him.

"Why?" Iwami asked him. Ebisu was methodically placing the stacks of bills into his briefcase, lining each up in precise rows, so as not to be disturbed when the briefcase was lifted up. "Young Master, I understand a hafuri vessel is quite rare. But your shinki are loyal to you; why go to such lengths to buy him?"

"Because his Master has no name, Iwami." Ebisu shut the briefcase, smartly. "If a nameless god dies, his shinki is left behind. The Yatogami has but one believer. If he disappears before he can release him, that young hafuri will be forced into a life of a stray."

His master was most generous. Iwami bowed, understanding; the nora Ebisu had rescued were indeed those that were abandoned, hated and scorned for their circumstances. Some were forcibly turned into nora by rival gods, gods who risked blight and succession in order to obtain their coveted abilities. If word got out that a nameless god had a hafuri, there was nothing stopping more powerful gods from swooping in and stealing Yukine for their own.

"Do you think that boy is in danger, young Master?" Iwami asked. Ebisu smiled, wryly.

"At the very least, Takemikazuchi has been boasting that he could kill the Yatogami and steal his hafuri any time he wants." They both knew that Takemikazuchi was desperate for a hafuri, and even if Yukine blighted him, Takemikazuchi had enough followers for reincarnation.

"He is quite the arrogant god," Iwami said, and he helped Ebisu on with his coat.

xXx

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The Ayakashi stung him often.

He was preternaturally lucky. With each succession, he learned ever more quickly how to control each new mask.

Human beings could not attain happiness with wealth alone. They were beset by anger and greed, driven mad for power and filled with self-doubt. In short, they were already corrupted by phantoms, and Ebisu sought to control chaos incarnate. It was this way he could ensure mankind would always be happy.

He had no idea there was another conjurer competing with him, a faceless man who also dabbled with masks.

xXx

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As a rule, the denizens of the Near Shore never remembered him. Ebisu didn't mind - other gods barely remembered him either, and since he was the seventy-seventh iteration of the merchant god, he was used to the feeling of not being remembered.

The old woman at the diner always remembered him, though. "The hamburger steak, right?" she said, before Ebisu could complete his order. The first time she remembered, he looked up at her, startled, and blinked uncomprehendingly.

"You remembered," Ebisu said.

"Of course I did!" The old woman smiled, widely.

It always surprised him, when she remembered. And every time he grew more humbled and touched by her kindness. He had millions of followers, millions of wishes and prayers, but they all prayed to the god of merchantry, they were not praying to _him_. He was disposable, replaceable, not someone important at all.

And yet this Near Shore woman, who somehow remembered how he liked his steak cooked or that he liked the little flags that came with the kids' meal, smiled at him as if she were really seeing him. It made him happy to think that to her, at least, he wasn't just another placeholder.

xXx

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"If I die," Ebisu said one day to Iwami, seemingly out of nowhere. "If I die, Iwami, will you grieve?"

Iwami looked up. Ebisu was watching him, silently.

Iwami has lived a thousand years, has lived a thousand lifetimes. He knew that when this Ebisu died, the next Ebisu will be reborn, flashing into existence over the sunny banks of the river, looking out at the calm blue waters with boyish wonder.

"I have grieved, and I will grieve, young Master," Iwami said. "There may be other Ebisus. But there is only one of you."


End file.
